


Home for the Holidays

by Nymphadorable



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry Potter, Auror Ron Weasley, Bathroom Sex, Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, Cunnilingus, F/M, Handcuffs, Making Love, Making Out, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Post-Hogwarts, Quickies, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sex, Soulmates, True Love, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, potterotica, romione
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 08:06:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16850308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nymphadorable/pseuds/Nymphadorable
Summary: Christmas Eve celebrations at the Burrow are in full swing. The absence of Hermione's parents, however, temper their festive celebrations. But Ron Weasley is on the case...





	1. Prologue: What Comes in the Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Quills_and_Inkpots](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quills_and_Inkpots/gifts).



> This work is was made as a gift for Quills_and_Inkpots . Have a happy holidays darling, I hope that it's as much of a joy for you to read as it was for me to write. Cheers! 
> 
> *
> 
> A big shout out to J.K. Rowling. Thank you for bringing magic into the lives of so many people, myself included. All characters belong solely to you.
> 
> Another giant thank you to my incredible betas [ Keep_Calm_And_Expecto_Patronum ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keep_Calm_And_Expecto_Patronum/pseuds/Keep_Calm_And_Expecto_Patronum) , [ BrandonStrayne ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrandonStrayne/pseuds/BrandonStrayne) , [ OllieMaye ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/search?utf8=%E2%9C%93&work_search%5Bquery%5D=OllieMaye) ! You three are a constant source of inspiration, delight, and I couldn't have done this without you. <3

Maniacal laughter filled Hermione's ears as she burst through a set of mahogany French doors and into the lavishly appointed drawing room of Malfoy Manor, the singsong quality of it causing fear to pool in her stomach and bile to burn at her throat. _No. Please. Not again_ , she thought desperately as tears pricked at the corners of her eyes and she ran beneath the great, crystal chandelier.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” Bellatrix Lestrange cooed, her voice now startlingly close. “Come out and play!”

As Hermione's hand closed around the glass doorknob opposite the room from which she'd entered, there was an angry snarl from behind. Bellatrix had caught up to her.

“Where do you think you're going, you filthy little mudblood?!” the hateful woman screeched. Her rage quickly turning to glee as Hermione struggled with the knob, and Bellatrix cackled as she crept across the room in an oozing motion, not unlike a cat readying to pounce. The crystals sent a shower of jungle-hued rainbows cascading over the Death Eater as she approached the centre of the room. It was just as she reached towards the sheath holding her savagely curved blade that the lock clicked its release and Hermione pushed her way through the door, Bellatrix letting out a vengeful howl.

Slamming the door shut behind her, Hermione cast a quick Colloportus and turned around. The sight that met her confused and shocked her, and she couldn't help but suck in a harsh lungful of air as she was met with the familiar riverstone fireplace and chesterfield sofas of her childhood lounge. She was home. And snuggled up on her father's favourite overstuffed chair were her mum and dad, looking up at her with twin expressions of startled dismay.

“Daddy?” she whispered, happy tears of relief spilling over her cheeks as her eyes flitted between the two of them. “Mum?” At this her parents looked at one another with worried confusion.

Unwinding from her mother, her father slowly stood, cautiously approaching her with outstretched arms, his hands held up in a calming motion. He looked over her various cuts and bruises, before his eyes came to rest on the still bleeding letters carved into her arm.

“Are you alright, young lady?” he asked in a practised calm, which she knew he only used when he himself needed soothing. “Is there someone we can call for you?”

“Can we contact your parents?” her mother asked as she approached her father from behind, resting her hands on his upper arm in a reassuring manner. The look of concern in both of their eyes tugged at Hermione's heart, warring for her attention with the sensation of uneasy bewilderment.

“Mummy. Daddy. It's me. It's Hermione,” she murmured, pleading with them as her gaze shifted between the two. _Why are they looking at me like that?_ she thought to herself.

Patting her father's shoulder, Hermione's mother gave them both an uneasy glance and crossed the room to pick up the phone. Hermione scanned the familiar space as she followed her mother's movements; confusion turning to dread as she realized that there wasn't a trace of her in the room. Pressing in the familiar three-digit calling code, her mum watched her with barely concealed fright as her father led her over to a sofa and sat her down to deliver the harsh line which she was slowly coming to expect.

“I'm sorry young lady, you seem to be confused. We don't have any children,” he rubbed her hands between his lightly calloused ones as he searched her face. “Sit tight. We're going to get you the help that you need.”

Fighting nausea, she looked up into the same brown eyes that she herself shared before her eyes traveled back towards her mum as pain blossomed in her chest.

“Hello? Operator?” her mother asked, looking back towards the child she'd birthed with complete bewilderment. But the next words that spilled from her mum’s mouth were not her own. They were, instead, a startled jumble, in a rich baritone that did not match the breathy chords she had expected, but which were as familiar to her as her own voice.

“Hermione. Love. Wake-up.”


	2. Whispers in the Dark

Hermione gasped, waking with a start, while her heart slammed a painful rhythm against her ribcage as the tendrils of her nightmare slowly began to recede. Blinking a combination of sleep and tears from her eyes, she gradually became aware of the strong set of arms wrapped around her, pressing her into the warmth of a familiar embrace.

“Shhh, darling,” Ron murmured as he stroked her hair, repeatedly pressing kisses atop her disheveled curls. “I've got you.”

Letting out a muffled sob, Hermione relaxed into the safety of his arms. Burying her face in the crook of his neck, she clung closer to the man who'd grown to become such an integral part of her world over the past decade. Allowing her cheek to rest against the solid strength of his speckled shoulder, she took a deep breath in to calm herself, inhaling the comforting scent of the outdoors and cloves which perpetually clung to him.

The night terrors had begun shortly after the Final Battle and Hermione had suffered for two years, while she, her doctors, and her healers attempted every form of therapy, pill and potion to conquer the nightly horrors which had plagued her. Frustratingly, no matter how many forms of treatment they tried, nothing seemed able stop the haunting dreams. Nothing except for Ron.

They'd found out accidentally, on a trip to visit Charlie in Romania, roughly three quarters of the way through Hermione's first year at University. The cabin which he lived in was large, but not quite large enough to house the entirety of the Weasley clan, and so Ronald, Harry and herself had all volunteered to stay out in a tent in the yard; after all, it couldn't possibly be worse than camping with a horcrux. So after a long lecture by Mrs. Weasley about being sure to sleep in separate rooms, Ron and Hermione had done the exact opposite, and shyly snagged the first opportunity to curl up between the same sheets.

They hadn't slept beside one another since those long months of searching prior to their trip back to Hogwarts, and her stomach had been a ball full of nerves, but not Ron’s. He'd been so tender and self-assured as his hands had deftly traveled along her body and slowly undressed her; aquainting his lips with her skin in a way that up until that point she had only ever dreamed of. He took his time kissing, tasting and touching her. And when the moment she had been fearing and hoping for most had finally come, he'd gingerly rocked his hips back and forth between hers, until sharp pain became staggering pleasure, all the while murmuring how brave and extraordinary and beautiful she was; and also, how much he loved her. When they had finally fallen asleep that night, draped across one another while tangled in the evidence of their lovemaking, Hermione hadn't given a single thought to the fact that the bond she shared with Ron could get any deeper. And yet, it did.

That night, when she'd closed her eyes, the nightmares took hold. Bellatrix chased her, her mum and dad stared back at her in utter confusion, but before the torture of reliving the Final Battle and the deaths of all those whom she loved and admired could take hold... there was his voice. Calling her home, willing her to come back to him. When she'd finally woken up, he had held her as she'd cried, soothed her until she felt human again and told her that, if she'd have him, she wouldn't need to suffer through those dreams alone anymore.

The next morning, Ron had announced that they would be moving in together. At the breakfast table. Molly had been near to hysterical, but he wouldn't budge. Finally, after Arthur had pulled her into the living room to speak in private, they both came back and rejoined the family, all sitting in awkward silence. The atmosphere had been incredibly tense for a few moments, but as the meal went on everyone calmed. Afterwards, Ron's parents pulled them aside, and after a cringe inducing half-hour contraceptive discussion, Molly and Arthur wished them luck, promising to help in whatever way they could, and to aid them in getting everything in order. They hadn't spent a single night apart since.

Smiling at the memory as she sniffed away her last few tears, Hermione trapped Ron's mouth beneath hers. A satisfying groan rose up from his chest and pressed into her mouth and the next thing either of them knew she was sitting astride his thighs and tugging his flannel pyjama bottoms down past his hips. His body was glorious; chest and stomach all chiseled muscle and freckled skin, lightly covered in glittering copper hair. But she only took a moment to admire the man beneath her, before her gaze was diverted down to his prick as it sprang free. Reaching out she took his thick and sizable cock into her hand, stroking up and down his length as it filled with blood and hardened.

“Fuck,” Ron muttered roughly, as her fingers danced over him, his brow furrowed in surprise and pleasure. Reaching out, he slid his hands over her calves and up her thighs, squeezing them softly as he buckled his hips up beneath her. A spike of delight shot from Hermione's chest straight down to her groin at the look on his face; a sleepy grin spreading across his lips as his eyes devoured her, greedily watching her every move. “Let me see you,” he pleaded softly.

Slowly, Hermione brought her free hand up and began unbuttoning the sleep shirt she had nicked from him shortly after they'd moved in together. She never tired of the wild look that overtook him when she stripped, and eager to keep his bright blue eyes burning, she pretended to fumble a few times. Whether or not he misunderstood her play-acting or simply lost patience, she couldn't tell, but it wasn't long before years of Auror training kicked in and Ron was suddenly sitting up from beneath her. He grabbed onto the hem of either side of the worn flannel and jerked his hands apart, tearing the shirt open in order to expose her body and sending buttons skittering across the bed and hardwood floors. He leaned in then, kissing her roughly, and squeezing her arse as he bucked his hips up against hers; groaning huskily as his shaft parted her lower lips and slid back and forth along her slick entrance.

Next, his hands were creeping between the layers of splayed fabric and her skin; gently skimming down her shoulders and arms as he finished slipping the garment off of her. Even after having lived together for two years, she still felt the familiar warming of blood rushing to her cheeks as his mouth left hers and his eyes trailed familiarly over her body like a lover's caress. Glancing back up at her, Ron gave a cheeky grin just before capturing one perky breast in his hand, dipping his head and pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of her nipple. When Hermione gasped in response, he rubbed the course stubble of his cheek lightly over it and then he was pulling the hardening, dusky bud into the soft, wet heat of his mouth.

“Ronald...” she cried softly. Her words trailing off as her head fell back, curls tickling at her spine. She sank her fingers into his downy-soft hair in order to hold his mouth more firmly against her chest, and her hips rolled in lazy circles as she ground intimately against him. “I want you inside of me.”

Moaning, Ron nodded. Wrapping one arm securely about her waist, he leaned forward and, pressing his free palm into the sheets, used the other to guide them down onto the bed. Looming over her, he fumbled towards the nightstand until he finally located his wand. After a quick incantation she felt the familiar warming in her lower abdomen of the contraceptive spell taking hold.

She had expected him to cast his wand aside, but was shocked and delighted when he instead flourished it and murmured a horse “Tremo!” She squirmed beneath him in anticipation as Ron positioned himself between her spread thighs, unable to stop the shaky cry that clawed its way out of her throat as he brought his wand down and slid the vibrating tip of it back and forth over the concentrated bud of nerves at the apex of her sex. He leaned over her then, smiling down and stroking her curls lovingly as he continued drawing his wand in small circular motions around her clitoris with varying speed and pressure, occasionally drawing it up and down her entrance before bringing it back up again.

Closing her eyes, Hermione allowed herself to get lost in the moment. She explored the peaks and valleys of her pleasure, until almost without warning she felt the sudden building ache between her thighs. Unconsciously, she began winding her hips back and forth, desperate for release.

“That's it,” Ron whispered softly in her ear, and she happily delighted in the feel of the soft tickle of his breath against her neck. “Go on and cum, love.”

His words were like the last few drops of water needed to fill a glass, and suddenly her pleasure was overflowing, spilling over the sides as she moaned and gasped through her climax. As the after waves of her orgasm slowly waned, she was left trembling and weak-kneed, blinking her eyes open to meet Ron's luminous gaze. If she had even a hair more control left within her, she might have found herself bristling with annoyance and amusement at how pleased he looked with himself.

“Alright?” he asked, voice gravelly as a grin spread across his handsome features.

“Mmm,” she somehow managed, and nodded her reply.

“Good,” came his jovial response, then suddenly he was kneeling between her legs and hooking his arms beneath her crooked knees. “Because now, I'm going to fuck you.” His voice was sultry and nearly dangerous, sending butterflies tumbling through her stomach.

Spreading his own knees, he straightened and yanked her down the bed towards him, repositioning her so that her legs opened further for him. Her eyes widened as she propped herself up on her elbows and watched on in anticipation. Moving his hand up and down his sizable length a couple of times, he lined it up with her entrance and stroked his aching rod up and down her pussy, before sinking roughly into her with a jerk of the hips.

Hermione groaned and cried out, her back arching up off of the bed. She didn't think that she would ever get used to how much she loved the aching feeling of Ron filling her. Before she could put any more thought to that subject, he was gripping her hips and pistoning himself in and out of her with a desperate need, careful not to hurt her, but only just barely. A raw desire and need was pouring off him in waves, causing a spike in her own and without thinking she reached between her thighs to continue grazing her clit. Ron moaned at this and nodded, eyes hooded and watching as she pleasured herself while he slid fluidly in and out of her body.

“Fuck, Hermione! You'll make me cum,” he warned hotly, brow sexily furrowed in a mix of pleasure and concentration.

The boldness of his statement sent a surge of longing coursing through her and she reached up with her free hand to begin kneading one of her nipples as she rocked her hips back and forth against his, matching his pacing. She nearly came undone at the sight of a bead of sweat trickling down his chest and over his abs, leaving a glistening trail before it disappeared into the neatly trimmed copper thatch that haloed his perfect cock.

Licking her lips she nodded and held his gaze as she whispered, “Cum for me? Inside of me.”

Ron's eyes widened and he nodded, before his fingers dug into her thighs and he slammed his hips roughly forward with a thick groan. After a few moments, he continued to rock his hips jerkily against hers, drawing his breath heavily in and out, his chest rising and falling with the effort. Slowly, his hips stilled before he gingerly withdrew from her, drawing matching intakes of breath from them both.

He knelt before her exhausted, looking at her with a mixture of wonder and pure adoration that filled Hermione with pride. Smiling radiantly at him, she drew her legs up, then slid them back down on one side of him and patted the quilt beside her.

“C'mere you,” she cooed softly.

Ron smiled contentedly as he nodded and shakily lowered himself, collapsing to the bed beside her; drawing her close, he wrapped her up in a protective embrace. “I love you,” he said softly as he kissed her temple. His words caused joy to blossom in her chest, just like the very first time that they had spoken those three small words to one another. Three tiny words that changed her world.

“I love you, too,” she whispered and kissed his shoulder. Settling in beside one another, they held each other close. Wrapped in the silent stillness of early winter, the only sounds to be heard being the quiet rustle of breath and lazy kisses. She wasn't sure how long they laid like that, but Hermione couldn't think of a single place that she'd like to be more. As the minutes ticked by, her mind wandered back to that first night that they'd shared, wrapped up in each other's limbs, and to how Ron had even then seemed to know just what she needed.

“I've always wondered...” Hermione attempted, before nerves set in and she slowly trailed off. A flush burst across her face and she was grateful that his beautiful auburn lashes were resting atop his cheeks.

“Hmm?” Ron murmured curiously as his fingers traced gentle circles over her shoulder while he listened and waited. When he was met with silence he peeked one eye open, capturing her gaze and quelling her embarrassment. “What is it, kitten?”

The endearment was one that he had adopted for her not long after she'd given him a tiny obsidian Persian, Ozymandias, the Christmas after he'd passed his Auror exams, and it perked her up, helping her to press on.

“Where did you learn to... that is to say, did somebody teach you?” She spluttered, slightly mortified that he could still reduce her to an inane and infatuated school girl. Her embarrassment turned to determination when Ron chuckled at her discomfort, the muscles of his chest and stomach bunching deliciously beneath her.

“Ugh! You are impossible, Ronald Weasley!” she cried in frustration, causing his soft chuckling to turn into full on laughter.

His delight at her annoyance finally gave her the boost she needed, and before she could stop herself she blurted out, “How did you know what to do? That night in Romania?”

Ron immediately sobered and looked at her, trying but failing to hide his shock at the question.

“What do you mean?” he asked softly. She stared up into his curious, summer blue eyes and took a few moments to find the right way to answer him.

“What I mean,” she murmured quietly, “Is that I was scared out of my mind. But you... you were so calm, and reassuring, and gentle. You knew exactly what to do. How?”

Having finally asked the question that had been on her mind for years, Hermione softly drew a finger up and down his sternum in a soothing motion; although, she wasn't entirely sure which one of them she was attempting to calm down. Ron caught her hand in his and brought it up to his lips, kissing her palm softly and pinning her gaze with his before he replied.

“Blimey, love. I had no idea what I was doing,” he spoke quietly, his own cheeks turning a deep shade of pink. “I was absolutely terrified that I would muck it up and finally scare you off. But then it occurred to me that I didn't have to be frightened. I had you, my best friend, right there with me. All I had to do was the same thing that I've been doing since our first year at Hogwarts, on Halloween, with the dungeon. I needed to follow you into the unknown and trust that we would come out the other side stronger than we were before. After I came to that realization, the rest was easy.” Looking up at him in the soft, twinkling lights of their room, the honesty of Ron's words were written plainly across his face.

As the first snowflakes of the Christmas holiday began to swirl outside the windows of their bedroom, Hermione slid her hands across Ron's chest and up to his bare shoulders. Pressing her fingers into them, she laid down, coaxing him to follow along and settle above her. For the second time in as many hours, Hermione and Ron found themselves lost in each other, all traces of worry and fear completely erased.


	3. Waking Up on the Ron Side of the Bed

The savoury smell of sausages woke Ron, and he squinted against the light that was spilling into his and Hermione's room through the large bay window placed opposite the foot of their bed. Stretching out his long limbs, he shivered and shrunk back into the warmth of their velvet and down comforter.

“Bloody hell,” he croaked, as he rubbed the chill bumps that had burst across his arms.

A dainty, but very forceful, squeak sounded down by his hip, and he smiled as his eyes were drawn to its source. Luminous, peridot eyes, set into an adorably smooshed black face, stared up at him and he couldn't help the delighted grin that further dimpled his already cheerful expression. Ozymandias lay curled up with Crookshanks, partially buried under the coverlet that Hermione must have folded back when she'd gotten up; by the look on his already curmudgeonly scrunched face, he was not pleased at having been woken by Ron's sudden movements.

“I’m sorry, mate,” Ron murmured as he reached down and pulled Oz up into his arms. “I didn't mean to wake you.”

The sassy squeak that he got in response was likely meant to chide him, but ran entirely contrary to the fuzzy face-rub that he received, and he chuckled at the evidence that his apology had been accepted as the little black ball of fur turned his purr-box on at full force. The same could not be said for Crookshanks. A low yowl sounded beside his knee and Ron looked down to his occasional ally, but most often rival. The livid orange beast stared up at him from contemptuous topaz orbs, flattening his ears as he lashed his tail violently. Clearly Crookshanks had woken up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, Ron mused, having to stifle his laughter at the thought.

Ron reached out to stroke under his chin, one of Crookshanks’ favourite displays of affection, in an attempt to calm him, but this only seemed to incense Hermione's familiar all the more. Hunkering even deeper into the bed clothes, Crookshanks’ yowl morphed into a sinister growl before he eventually bared his fangs and hissed. Ron barely managed to pull his hand back in time before Crookshanks was lashing out with razor sharp claws in a failed attempt to swat him. Apparently today they were back to being enemies.

Ron pointed a finger at the amber lump of hatred, scowling as he chided him, “Poor form, mate! That was a dirty trick and you know it!”

His admonishment was met without a single ounce of remorse as Crookshanks squinted haughtily in his direction a few moments more before standing up, repositioning, and plopping down with his legs spread wide apart. He gave Ron one last scathing glance and then began the vital work of cleaning his nether regions.

“Sodding prat,” Ron muttered under his breath, as he clung to Ozymandias, whose gleeful purring hadn't paused for even a moment throughout the entire ordeal.

“Is the bad man being mean to you?”

The adoring coo of Hermione's voice drew his attention away from his standoff with Crookshanks, and his breath caught at the sight of her as she padded into the room. She was wearing nothing but one of his favourite worn black tee-shirts, which featured bright yellow script reading “NIRVANA” (one of his favourite muggle bands since Seamus had introduced them to Ron) and a yellow smiley face with x's for eyes and a squiggly mouth. Her long slender legs, toned and tanned, were left bare, and her brilliant mahogany curls were a wild mess, untouched since she'd woken up, and cascading down her shoulders and back. In her arms she held a tray, laden with two plates full of sausages, buttered toast, roast mushrooms, stewed tomatoes, and beans. Beside them were two tea cups centred on saucers, creamer, sugar and a pot of what he was hoping was his favourite tea, English Breakfast. It was a testament to how much he adored her that between Hermione and the tray of breakfast she was holding, Ron found her to be the more delectable of the two.

Eyes still devouring her, he leaned towards Crookshanks and, in a stage whisper, mocked, “Hear that Crooks? She agrees that you're bad.” Crookshanks growled his dissent.

Hermione laughed and rolled her eyes as she padded across the room. He would never tire of that smile or laugh. She was a goddess. Ron gently set down Oz beside the tangerine terror and sat fully up, swinging one leg out over the side of the bed.

Placing the tray on the padded leather trunk at the foot of their bed, Hermione tsked as she moved around its side, finally coming to stand before him. Ron reached out and wrapped his arms around her thighs, his thumbs stroking back and forth over soft skin and jersey. Draping her arms across his broad shoulders, she gently ran her fingers through the hair at the nape of Ron's neck. His chin tilted up towards their ceiling, involuntarily, and, leaning into her touch, he let out a soft groan: the exact response she'd been aiming for. As she leaned in to whisper against his ear, the warm tickle of her breath caused his cock to stir.

“Not Crookshanks. You, Ronald,” her voice was both husky and sweet. His rod stiffened further at the use of his given name.

“Oh. I'm the bad man?” he clarified, tilting his chin forward once more and fixing her with a heated blue gaze. He delighted at the sight of her swallowing hard before regaining her composure and giving him a mock-curt nod.

“Then I'll just have to show you how bad I can be,” he murmured suggestively. Grinning rakishly at her, he tightened his grip on her and, with practiced speed and agility, he pivoted and pulled her down onto the bed, angling his body so that she was pressed down beneath him. Hermione giggled and hit him playfully on the shoulder, but her thighs parted, allowing him to press intimately between them.

“Ronald!” she squealed as his lips danced over her shoulder and traveled up her neck. “Your family expects us within the hour!”

Ron wordlessly murmured his understanding, but, rather than relenting, his mouth found her earlobe, which he lightly drew the tip of his tongue over before pulling the sensitive flesh into his mouth and sucking. Hermione moaned and fidgeted beneath him, gasping as his hard length pressed insistently through his pyjamas and against her entrance. He worked his way slowly down, hovering over her as he placed kisses along her neck and clavicle. Reaching between their bodies, he slid a finger gently along the inside her thigh until it found its way to the swollen little bud at the apex of her sex at the exact moment that he lowered his mouth and began to suck and prod at one of her nipples through her shirt.

Hermione groaned breathily at the contact and her hands tangled in his fiery hair, clinging to him as she attempted to gather her thoughts. He raised his eyes and watched contentedly as she struggled to speak her next words with conviction. Ron smiled at the attempt.

“Your mum will be mutinous. You know she worries when we're late,” she warned, breathily. “Now, be good and eat your breakfast!”

Ron's mouth lifted from her breast, leaving a darkened patch of fabric behind, and Hermione opened her maple brown eyes, bringing them down to meet his as his ministrations paused. Pinning her gaze hotly with his, a slow and nearly predatory smile crept across his handsome features, before quickly vanishing.

“Oh...” he spoke, his face the picture of seriousness. Ron's velvet baritone seemed to pick up where his fingertips had left off, and she watched in anticipatory delight as, cat-like, he crept down the bed until he was kneeling on the floor. Hooking his arms beneath her thighs, he pulled her down to the edge of the bed and draped her legs over his shoulders. Placing a single kiss to her lower stomach, just above her pelvis, he gave her the lopsided grin she loved so much and finished, “I plan to.”

Hermione moaned and gasped, back arching up off the bed and nails digging into the comforter beneath her as, meal forgotten, Ron’s mouth found its way to her center and he set about devouring her.


	4. Family Ties and White Lies

With a muffled pop, Ron and Hermione apparated upon the doorstep to his family's homestead. He felt a small pang of guilt at the startled yelp that sounded to their right, followed by a rush of movement as the frightened garden gnome scurried away into the snow-laden hedges. Poor thing. As they clung to each other and waited for their senses of equilibrium to adjust, it dawned on him just how much he had changed for the better since Hermione had entered into his life, and he pressed a gentle kiss to her temple.

“Mmm,” she hummed cheerfully as she wrapped her arms around his middle and huddled close to him in the frozen chill. “What was that for?”

“Simply because I love you,” he said softly, with a smile and a wink, thrilled at the dazzling smile that served as her reply. Clearing his throat, he nodded and glanced over her shoulder to the wide front door, giving her a quick squeeze. “Ready to see the family?”

“Always,” she beamed up at him.

Separating, they stood, holding hands side-by-side, and Ron reached out, rapping at the door three short times. It was only a few moments before the door swung open to reveal a bright-eyed Teddy Lupin, grinning from ear to ear and covered from head to toe in green and red icing. His cerulean eyes, which currently matched the colour of his messy waves, widened in delight at the sight of his godfather's two best friends.

“Uncle Ron, Aunt Hermininy!” the chipper four-year-old cried gleefully as he launched himself up without warning. Hermione was grateful for Ronald's quick reflexes as he effortlessly caught the young lad and chuckled.

“Hey, buddy,” Ron replied, smiling as he spun Teddy in a circle before kissing the top of his head.

“You look like you're having fun,” Hermione quipped as she leaned in towards Teddy's outstretched arm for a hug.

“The best time! Daisy and I are making a gingerbread village with Nanna Dromeda and Gramma Molly!” Teddy explained enthusiastically, head bobbing excitedly up and down all the while.

As though summoned by name, the pretty little redhead, who could often be mistaken for Teddy's shadow, appeared from around a corner. Smiling wide, she cheerfully chirped, “Good mornin’, Ron and Hermione!”

“Good morning, Daisy! Come here you!” Hermione kneeled down for a hug and was delighted when Daisy ran straight into her open arms, clinging to her neck as she picked the small girl up.

“Morning, Daisy,” Ron replied with a smile, looking over her shoulder towards the living room beyond. “Is your dad here?”

Daisy nodded happily as she replied, “Yeah. He's in the living room with Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny.”

Stepping into the foyer, Ron closed the door behind them, in an attempt to avoid a tongue-lashing for letting all the hot air out, and together they made their way into the cosy home, each balancing a small child upon their hips. Moving into the living room, Ron smiled and waved at Dudley.

“Alright, mate?” he asked, attempting to bury his deep-seeded grudge for the big, blond mountain of a man. It had been a couple of years since Dudley had turned up on Harry and his sister's doorstep early one summer's evening, holding his tiny daughter close to his chest. After an awkward greeting, Harry had invited his older cousin into their home, and it was in their lounge that Dudley had confided in them that he suspected Daisy was a witch. It was immediately evident that he'd been correct and, since that evening, the two cousins had put in a great deal of effort into mending their relationship. Initially, it seemed that this was intended to be for the sake of the children, but over the past year or so Ron had watched with an apprehensive, yet grudging, respect as Dudley and his best mate had grown closer. If Harry could forgive him for the years of torment he'd endured at Dudley's hands, Ron supposed he should as well.

“Alright,” Dudley smiled amiably back at Ron.

“Mum’s in the kitchen?” he asked, looking curiously towards Harry as he gently lowered Teddy to the ground, Hermione doing the same with Daisy. They both kissed and ruffled the children's hair and it wasn't long before the two were racing back through the hallway and towards the waiting gingerbread village, leaving a trail of high-pitched laughter and the pitter-patter of small feet in their wake.

“Ron? Hermione? Is that you? You’re late.” Molly's voice was touched with a hint of frustration and carried out to him from deeper within the house, as though somehow she'd managed to hear his question through wood and plaster.

The two of them shared a sheepish glance, before he finally called back his response, “Yes, Mum! We're in the living room!”

Harry chuckled from the sofa where he rested beside the hearth, leaning in conspiratorially to whisper in a sing-song voice, “You're both in for it now!” Ginny swatted his knee, but couldn't hide the laughter reaching her eyes as she looked adoringly at her husband, snuggling happily against his side.

Ron was so busy enjoying the relaxed delight shared by his sister and closest friend, that he nearly missed his warning. After a few moments had passed, Harry's words finally sank in and he looked quickly over to Hermione, grateful when she threaded her fingers through his and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, even if she was giving him a look which was clearly meant to convey to him that she had indeed told him this would happen.

But as his mind drifted back to her thighs trembling against his shoulders earlier that morning and the taste of her, which still lingered on his lips, he decided that it didn't matter how bad the tongue-lashing they were about to receive was; their tardiness was definitely worth it. Smiling down at her, he winked, causing Hermione's breath to catch in the most delicious way and a blush to burst across her cheeks. But before either could consider bidding their farewells and Disapparating back to the safety (and privacy) of their home, Ron's mother came rushing in through the hallway, hands already resting on her hips.

“There you are! It's half-past noon! Where have you been?” Her voice was slightly raised, as though she was just barely restraining herself from shouting, but there was a tightness at the corners of her eyes that made it clear she wasn't angry at their tardiness, merely that she was worried. It was a worry which she had carried with her for the past four years, and as the smiling face of Ron's older brother George rounded the corner behind her and he settled himself into a worn corduroy armchair to watch the show, both Ron and Hermione were reminded of exactly why.

“It's okay, Mum,” George told her in a soothing voice. “They were probably just having a leisurely Sunday lie-in. It is Christmas Eve, after all.” What Molly didn't see was the lecherous grin he bestowed upon his younger brother or the suggestive manner in which he wiggled his brows. Ron had to stifle the urge to walk over and strangle him and he was grateful when Hermione leaned lightly against his shoulder, ever the calm to his storm.

“Very well,” Molly replied, face softening as she considered George's excuse for her youngest son and his partner, and she nodded as the rest of her worry was swept away. “All that matters is that you're here now.” Smiling, she made her way over to Ron and Hermione, embracing both in tight hugs and peppering them liberally with kisses as Ron's father emerged from the kitchen and came to stand beside her.

Hermione smiled as Arthur pulled her in close, enveloping her in the scent of pipe tobacco and the kind of comforting embrace that only a father could give. The thought sent a small pang of pain through her chest and she wondered where on earth her own mum and dad had moved to, wishing for the thousandth time, that she had been able to locate them after the war. They would have loved sharing the holidays with the Weasleys.

She wrapped her arms around Arthur's waist and buried her face in the shoulder of his woollen cardigan, attempting to hide the tears that were suddenly pricking at her eyes. Seeming to sense her unease, he squeezed her tighter and leaned down to place a kiss atop her head; Arthur understood that their family was not the only one to lose a loved one in the war. Although he had to admit that in spite of the grief which lingered after the loss of his boy, he was grateful for the children which he'd gained.

“It's alright, love,” he spoke softly, as he shared a meaningful look with his son. “We'll find them, soon.”

Ron nodded, and Arthur gave him a curious look as he spotted the faintest hint of a smile. Glancing quickly back to the sofa, he caught Harry (who was as good a son to him as any of those he'd bore) quickly schooling his face into a look of practised nonchalance. _Interesting_. He wondered what his youngest boys were up to. In his arms, Hermione hiccoughed through an embarrassed laugh as she stood on tiptoes and kissed his offered cheek.

“I know,” she spoke with more lightheartedness than he knew she felt.

Molly, ever the matriarch, cleared her throat and smiled.

“Of course we will! Especially with two Aurors in the family!” she boasted proudly, resulting in a chorus of groans from her older sons, who had all filtered into the room by now, accompanied by their various spouses, partners and children, along with Andromeda Tonks who wore a knowing grin of her own. Ignoring the various complaints of favouritism and light jibes that had become a running joke in the home, she glanced back to her son, practically glowing with pride. A stricken expression replaced her smile and she reached up to stroke his cheeks.

“Ronald Bilius Weasley! Have you lost weight?” She tutted worriedly, in spite of his solid frame.

“No Mum!” Ron groaned as he swatted her hands away, trying and failing to ignore George's falsetto coos to Charlie about “Poor ickle Ronniekins.”

“Well, all the same, there is a plate of nibbles waiting for you in the kitchen,” she assured him with an affectionate pat to the cheek.

Ron's eyes brightened and a grin spread across his lips, “Any chance there are some pumpkin pasties and sausage rolls?”

“Of course dear,” Molly chuckled.

She smiled as he bent down to dutifully kiss her cheek and she dealt the final blow, “And after you've eaten your lunch, you and Hermione can help your brothers finish decorating the garden.” Immediately, the symphony of complaints resurfaced and Arthur tutted his sons.

“Now, there will be none of that,” he chided, a stern expression set into his normally jovial face. “We're all going to check in with your mum and see how we can help her finish preparing for tonight's party, before the guests start to arrive.”

“Before the guests arrive? What are we? Chopped liver?” George quipped, ducking his head slightly as Molly turned an impatient glare his way.

“No, George. You're not guests,” Arthur replied through gritted teeth and with forced patience as his eyes scanned the room, silently chiding all of his and Molly's children. But they softened when they came to rest on Hermione once more. “You're family.”

Gratitude and love bubbled up inside of Hermione and the tears which she'd been holding back finally spilled down her cheeks as Ron smiled and wrapped his arm protectively around her waist, giving her a soothing squeeze.

“Precisely.” Molly's voice was thick with emotion as she spoke and she leaned in to kiss both of Hermione's cheeks before clearing her throat and regaining her composure.

“Now,” she tsked, waving her hands in a shooing motion as she looked around the room. “Get off your lazy bones and help get this house in order! And if I see a single one of you slacking in your duties—George, Ronald—there will be no supper in it for any of you!”

Hermione watched as the rest of the Weasley clan jumped into action; it was time to roll their sleeves up and get to work. And so it was that she found Ron leaning down to place a kiss to her temple as he dragged her towards the kitchen and his beloved pumpkin pasties, eager to grab a few bites before they were banished to the freezing cold. She couldn't help but laugh in delight.

The family had gathered in the kitchen to collect their marching orders, and Ron was just getting ready to tuck into a sausage roll, when Harry came jogging into the kitchen. He gave Molly and Hermione an apologetic glance before turning to Ron and holding up a piece of loosely rolled parchment.

“I'm sorry, everyone,” he apologized sheepishly. “Ron and I are on-call for today's shift and Kingsley has sent word that an altercation has broken out at the The Thestral’s Breath Inn. We've been ordered to report there immediately.”

A look of apology settled across both his and Ron's faces at the mirrored expressions of disappointment now worn by Hermione, Ginny and Molly. Mrs. Weasley was the first to recover.

“That's alright, boys,” she said with a forced amount of cheer. “Public safety always comes first.”

The rest of the family mumbled their agreement and the two men set about collecting goodbye hugs.

“We'll make this as fast as we can,” Ron said as he gathered Hermione into his arms and pressed a tender kiss to her lips. She nodded up at him, attempting to hide the worry from reaching her eyes, and leaned in for another peck. Smiling down at her, he continued, “I'll make sure that we're back in time for tonight's party.”

“Promise?” she whispered, reaching up to stroke his cheek.

“I promise,” he vowed, pressing his forehead against hers and sharing a tender smile.

She returned his smile with a nod, which served as his cue. Waving a quick goodbye to the rest of the family, Ron and Harry then made their way out of the kitchen and towards the foyer. Taking only a moment to slip into their coats as they rushed out into the crisp December chill, they closed the door behind them and disapparated with a subtle pop.


	5. Lost and Found

**One week earlier:**

 

“Go on then!” Harry jibed, clapping Ron on his shoulder good-naturedly as Neville, Seamus and Dean hooted along in the background. “Show us what brilliant gift you've gotten her! What is it that could possibly have required all of us to detour through Muggle London, in the middle of our shifts no less, for you to acquire?”

Ron's eyes shone in the dimmed lights of the Leaky Cauldron, his cheeks dimpling as he pulled the enormous gift bag up onto the table that they had taken over. Wiggling his brows, he reached into the ornament-adorned bag and pulled out a...

“Is that a... mate, is that a lamp?” Neville asked as a confused look settled over his face. He'd fared quite a bit better than Harry and Dean, who sat with twin expressions of a dismayed sort of shock. Meanwhile, Seamus's eyes had gone wide and he wore the sort of maniacal grin that would have made Peeves especially proud, had he the opportunity to see it.

The magical world was full of strange and wonderful things, but sometimes it truly paled in comparison to the bizarreness of what Muggles were capable of dreaming up. Standing on the scarred and pocked oak table before them was a long and slender leg; roughly a meter tall, it was covered in racy black fishnets which led down to a shiny, black stiletto heel and was topped off by a golden shade, the bottom of which was rung with long black fringe. As Ron pulled out a familiar silver lighter and flicked it open with his thumb, an orb of light raced to the lamp and settled within it, illuminating the shade and causing the leg to seem to glow from within. All in all, the lamp was hideous.

“It's great, isn't it?” Ron said proudly. As he puffed out his chest with pride while looking over the strange contraption, he looked more his father's son than ever before.

“Great?!” Seamus half-shouted, already a fair amount into his cups. “Mate! That's bloody brilliant, that is!”

“What on Earth are you two going on about? It's a total eyesore!” Dean finally cut in.

“Ron, I'm sorry mate, but I've got to agree with Dean. I hope that you have a life insurance policy, because the moment Hermione pulls that ruddy monstrosity out of the bag, she is going to kill you,” Harry added, worrying for his best friend's sanity. “Why, in the name of Merlin, would you possibly think that Hermione would want that thing?”

Neville's eyes darted nervously back and forth between his friends but he kept silent, curious as to what Ron could possibly have to say for himself.

“Because,” Ron said simply, a smile still plastered to his face. “She's absolutely going to love it.”

“She'd have to be barking mad not to,” Seamus replied excitedly. Leaning in to get a closer inspection of the scantily clad piece of decor.

When three of his four friends continued to stare at Ron as if he'd gone and lost the plot, he rolled his eyes and explained, “It's the same lamp from a Muggle holiday movie, A Christmas Story. The movie has always been one of Hermione's favourites and she used to watch it every year on Christmas Eve with her parents. Since...” he trailed off, a frustrated flush bursting across his cheeks as he struggled with the fact that they still hadn't been able to locate her parents.

As Ron explained the lamp’s background, the puzzle pieces fell into place and Harry understood why he'd gone so far out of his way to track it down. He was completely right of course, Hermione would love it. Glancing over in his direction, Harry could sense Ron's frustration and he reached out, giving a light squeeze of encouragement to his arm. Ron nodded his gratitude before clearing his throat.

Taking a deep breath, he pressed on, “Well, since we moved in together, she and I have adopted the tradition as our own... She'll be absolutely mad for the lamp. You see, her dad always said that he wanted one just like it.”

Just then, as the five childhood friends stood around and admired the gift with a new appreciation, the front door to the Leaky Cauldron burst open with a loud bang. Ron, Harry and Neville's Auror training all kicked in and the three of them spun around with their wands drawn.

In through the door walked two average-looking blokes. The first was a tall brunette chap with business-like sideswept bangs and kind grey eyes. He wore brown slacks and a white button-down shirt, complete with navy tie and a stylish mustard leather jacket. Dusting the snow off of his shoulders, he looked around the pub with a fascinated smile as his companion closed the door and stepped up beside him. The second man was shorter than the first, with close-cropped brown hair, a well-trimmed moustache with the ghost of a beard, and piercing, ice-blue eyes. He was dressed more casually in a pair of faded denims and a plaid flannel shirt, which peeked out from the charcoal peacoat which he was hunching into for warmth. But the thing that was the most immediately apparent about the two newcomers was that they, both of them, were muggles.

Ron and Harry shared a curious glance before each turned to look at Neville, who arched a brow in acknowledgement then turned back towards the strangers at the door.

Obviously less than pleased, the shorter of the two glanced up at the other and in a soft American accent demanded, “Are you sure this is the right place?”

The taller man, revealing himself to be an Englishman, cheerfully replied, “This is where the taxi driver dropped us off, so it must be.”

“Kicked us out, is more like it,” the American muttered, annoyed.

Ignoring the snipe, his companion continued, “Let's have a look around and see what we can find. Shall we?”

As the two moved further into the pub, Ron, Harry and Neville walked over towards them. Ron was just opening his mouth to ask if there was some way that they could help the men, eager to turn them around before they saw anything that may lead to them needing to be obliviated, when the taller of the two spotted Harry and gasped excitedly.

Looking up towards his lightning scar, the Brit extended his hand and asked, “Blimey! Are you Harry Potter? Are you The Boy Who Lived?”

Harry's hand unconsciously travelled to his forehead and a look of mild annoyance settled over his features as Ron stepped forward protectively, blocking him from view.

Shifting his gaze between the odd pair, Ron cleared his throat and piped up, “Who's asking?”

At this, the American looked closely over Ron and, pulling out what looked to be a rectangle of paper from his pocket, prodded his companion with his elbow. Directing his gaze down towards the proffered piece of paper, the taller man leaned down and peered back and forth between it and Ron before a huge smile split his face. Straightening, he then held out his hand and offered it to Ron.

“And you must be Ronald Weasley!” he chirped excitedly. “So pleased to finally meet you!”

“Right,” Ron said, his annoyance turning to apprehension. “What are you on about, mate? And who exactly are you?!”

“Oh! How silly of me!” the Brit muttered, at least having the decency to look embarrassed. Quickly recovering, he squared his shoulders and snatched the paper from his companion's hand, passing it over to Ron. As Ron and Harry looked down, they were shocked to find what was clearly a photograph of themselves and Hermione, in what looked to be about their third year at Hogwarts. The trio were huddled together outside of Honeydukes as the snow fell in great swirling flakes around them and they had their arms extended over one another's shoulders, smiling and laughing as though they hadn't a care in the world. Stunned, they both looked back up as the man in the mustard jacket cleared his throat and continued.

“The name is Dirk Gently, and this,” he gestured towards his American companion, “Is Todd Brotzman, my assistant.”

“I am not your assistant!” Todd griped. Clearly, this was a recurring subject of debate. Ignoring Todd's outburst, Dirk smiled enthusiastically as he pressed on.

“We are holistic detectives,” he said and, reaching out, he pressed his pointer finger to the photo now resting in Ron's hands. “And you wouldn't believe how long we have been searching for you three!”

___

**Present Day:**

 

"Leisurely Sunday lie-in my arse. You two are worse than a pair of nifflers!" Harry shot towards Ron as they apparated into the enchanted broom cupboard just outside the baggage claim area of Heathrow International Airport. He couldn't help the grin that spread across his face as he glanced in Ron's direction.

“I haven't the faintest idea what you’re on about,” Ron said with a wink.

As the two of them popped their heads out of the cupboard to make sure that the coast was clear, he experienced an adrenaline-filled rush of excitement that was not at all dissimilar to what he'd experienced when they'd been sneaking about the castle at all hours of the night, during their tenure at Hogwarts. Satisfied that they would not soon be detected, the two filed out of the closet and blended in with the holiday crowds as they made their way towards Baggage Claim 13: International Arrivals - Sydney, Australia.

Travel-worn tourists and locals were just starting to gather around the slow-moving carousel when they'd finally arrived and Ron scanned the crowd in search of the couple he and Harry were there to meet. To the strangers that bustled hurriedly around them, he looked the picture of calm determination, but after years of friendship Harry noticed the tightness at the corners of his best mate's eyes for what it was and he squeezed Ron’s shoulder in hopes of easing his nerves.

“Thanks, mate,” Ron murmured, casting him a sideways smile.

Harry held his eyes and, with a firm nod, he proudly replied, “You've finally done it, Ron. You've found them.”

The grin that broke across Ron's face in that moment was near to blinding and it dawned on Harry how little he'd seen such overwhelming joy overtake him since the death of his older brother Fred. Standing before him now, Harry could see in Ron the same eager zest for life that had convinced him he had found a lifelong friend on that first ride that they shared on the Hogwarts Express.

“I didn't find them, Harry. We did,” he said jovially. But after a moment's consideration he clarified, “Or rather, they found us... Well, they hired Gently and Gently found us.”

Fishing a piece of paper out of the inner breast pocket of his coat, Ron unfolded it and with a subtle tap of his wand it became as solid as a piece of cardboard. On the front of the paper, in bold script, was printed, “Basil & Lydia Granger”. Holding the sign proudly in front of his chest, he and Harry looked back out into the growing crowd and waited.

A few long minutes had passed before the two familiar figures who they had been searching for finally made their way through the crowd. Hermione's mum and dad looked much the same as they had the last time that Ron and Harry had seen them nearly five years prior, but both had a distinctly rigid set to their shoulders and flushed complexions, as though they'd been holding their breath for so long that they'd forgotten how to breathe. Lydia was the first to spot them waiting, and the moment her eyes fell onto Ron's hand painted sign she let out an audible cry.

“Boys!” she wailed, and dropped her luggage, zig-zagging through startled strangers as she ran towards them.

Ron passed the sign to Harry and caught Mrs. Granger in a giant bear hug as she finally reached them, stroking her hair and swaying her back and forth as her shoulders shook with elated sobs. He had always hated it when Hermione cried, but for a brief moment he was grateful to her nightmares for the years of training that they had provided him when it came to soothing another person as they struggled through their pain.

Suddenly seeming to remember her surroundings, Lydia released her vise grip, flushing as she caught sight of the small group of onlookers who were watching their reunion. Attempting to ignore them, she smoothed down the lapels of Ron's coat and brushed away her tears with an embarrassed chuckle.

“Look at you two,” she chattered nervously as Basil finally caught up to their small group, giving a grateful nod as Harry took three of the five pieces of luggage that he'd been juggling.

“Look at how big you've grown!” her voice was a combination of delighted awe and melancholy as she looked the two boys over.

“You've turned into a couple of proper gentlemen,” Mr. Granger said with pride, a warm smile erasing the look of panicked pain that he'd worn only a couple of minutes earlier. He came to stand beside Mrs. Granger and wrapped his arm around her shoulder in a protective embrace. Finally, unable to keep up the pretense a moment longer, Lydia asked the question that seemed to be at the forefront of both her and Basil's minds.

“Where is Hermione, Ronald? Where is our girl?”

Ron fidgeted as he looked down at both of Hermione's parents and cleared his throat. Harry and he shared a sideways glance and, hoping that they would understand, he pressed forward.

“She's back at the Burrow with my mum and dad. We haven't told her that you're coming yet,” he said, flushing crimson as he begged them with his eyes to understand. As nervousness chewed at his stomach, he hurriedly continued, “Tonight's my family's annual Christmas Eve bash and, seeing as how you're also family, we thought that you two would be the perfect Christmas surprise.”

Ron wasn't entirely sure what response he had been expecting, but he was pleasantly surprised when Mrs. Granger clapped with delight, sharing an excited glance with her husband.

“Oh boys,” she said, looking back and forth between Ron and Harry with maternal pride. “That sounds absolutely perfect!”

___

Lydia and Basil each held tight to one of the boys as, with a bit of a crack, they apparated to a small footpath which ran along the side garden of the Burrow. Ron then pulled out a familiar silvery cloak from within an equally familiar beaded bag (which was also storing the Grangers’ luggage) and, huddling extremely close together, the four of them disappeared from sight as he draped the invisibility cloak over them. They moved slowly and quietly along until finally they reached a tiny shed which sat at the back centre of the garden. Opening the door, the four quickly slipped inside, and Ron only flipped on the lights after the door was securely shut behind them.

Lydia let out a soft gasp at the sight which met her and Basil. The tiny building had been enchanted with the same charm as the tent which Ron, Hermione and Harry had shared as they trekked across the UK in search of horcruxes, and the results were astounding. Inside, the shed had been transformed into a cosy yet roomy guest cabin. On one wall sat a large stone fireplace, crackling prettily as it warmed the space, surrounded by a cream-coloured fur rug, a large oak coffee table, a plush red velvet couch and two comfy-looking leather armchairs with ivory and gold pillows, the matching quilts to which had been draped over their arms. The wall behind the couch was artfully arranged with photos of the Weasley family during various trips, which lead back to a small, but open kitchen that looked out over the living space. A door to the left of the refrigerator had been propped open, revealing a delightfully comfortable looking bedroom and the queen sized bed, which had been appointed with a fluffy white comforter and pillows, seemed to be calling out to her and her husband.

“I know it's not much,” Ron said bashfully. “But we hope it will be comfortable enough until we can find you some more permanent accommodations.”

Basil looked around the room in astonishment before turning back to face Ron with a smile.

“Not much? Why, Ronald, it's positively...” he faltered, searching for a word to describe the incredible little cabin.

“Magical,” Lydia murmured softly. “It's absolutely magical.”

The four of them stood and smiled cheerfully at one another before, glancing down at his watch, Harry gave a small jump.

“Blimey! Is that the time?” Looking back up to the Grangers, he gave a sheepish smile and continued, “Ron and I really should help you get your luggage sorted and then head back into the house. The guests will be arriving shortly and we don't want anyone spotting us coming out of here and poking around. You still have a couple of hours before we plan on lighting the garden, if you'd like to take a quick kip and a shower to freshen up before we bring you out for the surprise. The bathroom is back through the bedroom.”

“That would be lovely, dear,” Lydia said with a smile, leaning in to kiss Harry on both cheeks.

Ron cleared his throat and a light flush was revealed to have coloured his cheeks as Harry and Hermione's parents turned to face him. He was rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet nervously and he stilled when Harry curiously tilted his head to one side.

“You go on and get a head start mate. I can help Mr. and Mrs. Granger get settled. I’ll catch up to you soon,” Ron said softly. Giving Harry a meaningful glance as he finished, “I have something that I need to ask them before I go.”

Harry instinctively glanced down to where Ron's right hand, looking to be wrapped tight around some sort of small object, was resting deep within the pocket of his coat. Bringing his eyes back up to meet those of his best mate's, he gave him an encouraging nod and a wink then wordlessly slipped out of the shed and into the garden beyond.


	6. Lust in the Loo

After Ron and Harry had left, the rest of the afternoon had flown by in a flash, and between helping Molly with the finishing touches to The Burrow and greeting party guests, Hermione had barely been able to catch her breath. She knew that Christmas was always a big to-do at the Weasleys, but it was only after Hermione had secured her internship at the Ministry that she'd come to learn that their annual Christmas Eve bash was legendary amongst the British wizarding community. They may not be the poshest Pureblood family, but no one could rival the parties they threw for Christmas Eve, New Year's and Bonfire Night.

As she stood in front of the bathroom sink washing her hands, Hermione marvelled at how Molly and Arthur had done all of this back when Ron and his siblings were still children, before they'd begun bringing their own partners along to celebrate the holidays. She'd only put in a few hours of work and already the thought of curling up in bed with Crookshanks, Ozymandias and Ronald was playing at the back of her mind. Especially after the few hours together they had missed out on when Harry and Ron had been called away on Auror business. Even though he and Harry had returned within the past hour or so, she still wished that they'd had more time to spend together before all the guests had arrived. 

As though summoned by her thoughts, Ron appeared, his strapping form filling the doorway as he leaned against its frame. 

“Hiding from the rest of the party already?” he asked jovially, cheeks dimpling as he smiled sweetly at her. 

Laughing, Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head as she returned the hand towel she'd been holding to the ring it had been hanging on.

“Not at all. I just needed a quick trip to the loo,” she informed him. “Especially after drinking so much of your father's punch.”

Turning back towards him, her eyes roamed covetously over Ron’s spun-copper hair as it shone in the light, followed shortly by his piercing forget-me-not eyes, strong cheekbones and jaw, before dipping down to admire his broad and muscular frame. No longer lanky and awkward, time and a considerable amount of hard work, combined with his near six-foot-five stature, had transformed his body into one that any Roman gladiator would have been either jealous or terrified of. 

Curiously, Ron followed her gaze, looking down at himself and grinning as his eyes moved back up to meet hers. 

“Checking out the wares on offer?” he asked in a tone dripping with innuendo. 

“Mmm,” she murmured playfully. “If you're good, I might even let you show me a demonstration when we get home.”

At that, Ron stepped into the bathroom, closing the door behind him on his way towards her, and wrapping her in his arms as soon as she was within reach.

“Why wait?” he asked suggestively, taking her by surprise as he dipped his head down and trapped her lips in a long, slow kiss. As her mouth opened in shock, he slid his tongue inside, coaxing hers into an intimate dance, leaving her lightheaded. After stealing her breath away, he moved his lips to her neck, leaving the taste of cider and whisky on her tongue. The muffled sounds of music, laughter and conversation filtered in from behind the closed door and she finally regained her bearings. 

“Ronald!” Hermione half-hissed-half-moaned as he slid his hands down her back and squeezed her pert behind, all the while trailing kisses along her jawline. “What has gotten into you?”

Ron chuckled deeply and his eyes sparkled with mischief, which spurred a treacherous ache to blossom between her thighs, causing her to gasp.

“Mmm...” he murmured as he trailed the tip of his tongue over the shell of her ear. He brought one hand up to rest on her waist, and then, giving her arse a brief but biting spank, he moved the other between her thighs. He lightly ran his fingers up-and-down against her tender pussy through the black satin knickers that she'd slipped on over her garters and stockings after their morning sexcapades and huskily replied, “It's not what's gotten into me... It's what I want to put inside of you.”

The last was said with nearly a purr and Hermione could feel her initial shock and hesitation giving way to an intense desire to find out exactly what it was that he meant. Still, the worry that any moment one of the children (or another party guest, for that matter) might stumble in and catch them, and the ensuing shitstorm that was near certain to result in, had her reaching down and gently pressing her hand against Ron's wrist. It did not, however, stop her from shifting her hips in a grinding motion against his curious fingers, nor from her lashes fluttering as she licked her lips and looked up at him with both concern and need. 

Ron smiled winsomely down to her as he brought his less unruly hand up to tangle in her hair, tenderly stroking her cheek with the pad of his thumb and slowing the pace with which the fingers of his other hand explored her nether regions. Leaning in, his lips danced sweetly over hers for a few moments before he pulled away and stared deep into her eyes. 

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked gently. “Just say the words and I will.”

The earnestness in his voice, even after all these years, still touched her, and she leaned up, pressing the faintest ghost of a kiss to his lips. Worry still nagged at the back of her mind, but the thought of him stopping was just as bad. Shaking her head, she glanced over to the door before looking back up at him meekly.

“Your family. What if one of them walks in?” Her cheeks flamed as she asked the question which caused one of Ron's eyebrows to quirk and after a few moments he grinned. 

“Is that the only thing holding you back?” he asked, blue eyes blazing as they held hers, awaiting her answer.

Bringing her hands up to rest on his hips, Hermione nodded and pulled on his belt, drawing Ron closer as she unconsciously chewed at her lower lip. She wanted him so badly that she couldn't help but press her thighs together around his hand in an attempt to relieve the desperate throb that was building between them. Ron nodded and sobered slightly, slowly dragging his hand away from her knickers and along her thigh, his fingers grazing over bare flesh and the tops of her microfibre thigh-highs. Her breath hitched and a startled look of panic fluttered across her features as he withdrew his touch. Raising both brows in a teasing display of mock-surprise, Ron waited a few beats before he chuckled and gave her a playful wink. 

“I can fix that.” His deep voice was barely louder than a whisper and it caressed her in the absence of his touch. 

In a flash, he'd pulled out his wand from the slim, deep pocket along the side of his trousers, made specifically to hold the roughly-hewn piece of wood, and, barely glancing towards the door, he aimed his wand and muttered two quick spells, a “Colloportus” and a “Muffliato”, locking the door and protecting them from prying ears. 

“Better?” he spoke softly as his eyes moved lovingly over her body before making their way back up to meet hers. 

Hermione nodded and reached out, sliding her hands under his jumper. After running her fingers over the corded muscle hidden beneath, she tugged the soft cashmere up over his head and tossed it to the ground. She couldn't help but take a few more moments to stare appreciatively at how handsome he was before, standing on the tips of her toes, she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned in, giving him a searing kiss. Ron groaned at the contact, nipping her lower lip as he pulled away from her, and pressed the tip of his wand to her lower stomach, uttering a quick contraceptive spell. 

“Mmm... Tell me what you want to do to me,” she murmured against his lips. 

The colour rose in Ron's cheeks at Hermione's request. It had taken him a while to get used to this particular desire of hers, but after a time he'd grown used to the occasional request, and now he found he quite fancied the way that she responded to his baiting. 

“How badly do you want to know?” he murmured, teasing her as he slid his hands back down to her arse, grabbing her cheeks and squeezing them roughly as he spread them apart. He was delighted by her response as she pressed her body flush against his, grinding her pelvis against his, which felt like heaven against his already hardening cock. 

“So badly,” she whispered, smiling coquettishly up to him as she maintained eye contact. 

“Oh?” he took a few moments, pretending to consider her request. 

Hermione's heart fluttered erratically as she admired how becoming Ron looked with his brows knit together, chewing thoughtfully at the corner of his lip as he played along with her game. She was struggling to stop herself from tearing at his belt buckle and reaching into his jeans when he seemed to sense her impatience and cracked a dazzling smile. 

“Well in that case...” he spoke softly and leaned in to kiss her along her jaw once more. 

When his lips reached just below her ear he murmured in a low voice, “First, I'm going to turn you around.” And he did. 

Placing his hands on her hips, Ron pushed against one and pulled against the other, spinning Hermione around to face the vanity and pressing her up against it. A thrill of adrenaline pulsed through her body at the speed of the actions that followed his words, softened slightly by the heat she saw in his eyes reflected in the mirror before her. Craving contact with his body, she leaned back into him, grinding her bum on the growing bulge that was pressing insistently against his faded jeans. 

Sucking a harsh breath in through gritted teeth, his head tilted back momentarily as he responded to her teasing by digging his fingers into her hips and rutting his aching prick against her backside through a frustrating number of layers of fabric. Clearly feeling a similar level of frustration, Hermione moaned, the sound helping to clear Ron's head. Looking back into the mirror, he watched her closely as he raised one hand and drew her hair away from her neck and nibbled at her newly exposed earlobe. 

“Next, I'm going to pull up this blasted top,” he promised and grinned as she watched on wide-eyed. Slowly, he skimmed his hands up along her torso from where they had been resting on her hips. Once they'd reached her waist, he tugged at her black turtleneck, pulling it out from where it had been tucked into her mini and up over her perfect, pert breasts. The muscles in his jaw twitched as he realized that she hadn't worn a bra and he chuckled huskily as he took in the sight of her nips; puckered, pink and begging to be touched. 

“It looks like you're just as bad of a girl as I am a man,” he whispered darkly, referencing her taunt from earlier that morning. Hermione's lips parted at his accusation and she nodded eagerly.

Enjoying the way that she so easily complied, Ron found himself pulling up the corduroy mini-skirt that she'd worn and looked down to admire her gorgeous, round arse. She'd worn his favourite pair of skimpy knickers and he rubbed his hand in gentle circles over one smooth cheek. 

“Do you want to know what I'm going to do next?” he asked.

“Oh yes,” she murmured breathily, eyes pleading. As she waited with bated breath, the left corner of his mouth tilted up and he nodded. 

“Next, I'm going to pull these tiny panties down, bend you over this countertop and spank your gorgeous arse until its blush matches the one on your cheeks. And then...” he whispered, his voice a warning and a vow, “... I'm going to slide my cock into that tight little pussy of yours and fuck you senseless.”

There was barely time for the thready moan that rose from her throat to make it past her lips before he was following through on his promise. She watched on, wide-eyed, as he kissed her shoulder and then disappeared, kneeling down as he slowly peeled her knickers down her legs, playfully snapping one of her garters to signal that she needed to step out of the satin garment. Without hesitation, she lifted one heeled foot and then the other. She couldn't help but groan as Ron ran his tongue along her sex and then stood upright once more, watching her reaction covetously for a few moments before he continued on.

Next, he placed a hand between her shoulder blades and pushed down, causing her to lean over the vanity, arms extended above her head. The shock of the cool marble pressing against her bare breasts had her breath catching, only to come rushing back out a moment later when Ron's palm made a sudden and stinging contact with her arse. The action had her crying out in ecstasy and Ron had trouble ignoring his body's response to the sounds that she made. Instead, he swatted her a few more times, pulling stifled moans from her with each strike as tingling pain mixed with delicious pleasure until, finally, he couldn't ignore his need for her any longer.

Using one hand to soothingly rub the reddening welts that were rising on her tender flesh, he unfastened his belt and jeans with the other, grateful when his prick finally sprang free of his now painfully tight trousers. He stroked his shaft a few times, desperate for even temporary relief, before slipping a hand back between Hermione's legs and sliding his finger along her entrance and up to her clit. 

Although it didn't come as a surprise, Ron was pleased to find that she was already wet, and he only stroked the small bud of nerves a couple of times before moving his hand to one of her stocking-clad thighs and pulling her leg up so that it was resting along the countertop, giving him a better view of the paradise between her thighs.

Lining his knob up with her entrance, he used the tip of it to stroke up and down along her sex, parting her petals before sinking into them with an upward jerk of the hips and earning a quiet moan from the gorgeous woman beneath him. Transfixed, he watched on as his thick length disappeared into her taut opening, groaning at the sight of it glistening as he slid back out. The quiet cry that burst from her lips as he picked up the pace was music to his ears and, leaning forward, Ron wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her up so that he could admire the way her breasts bounced as he continued to thrust in and out of her body. 

His breath tickled her neck as he softly spoke into her ear, “Rub that clit for me. I want to watch you play with yourself as I fuck you.”

Hermione moaned and did as she was bid, reaching down and running her middle finger in circles around the swollen pink nub. The building ache that followed was nearly overwhelming as both she and Ron watched the erotic sight of themselves in the mirror before them. Holding her leg in place on the marble with one hand, he snaked the other around her ribcage and cupped her right breast in his large palm, kneading and tweaking its dusky tip between his fingers, pulling desperate mewling sounds from her throat. 

“That's it, kitten,” he urged her as his eyes danced in the soft light, fixed on the reflection of his aching rod piercing her repeatedly as her fingers danced just above it. “Purr for me.”

His words seemed to heighten the physical effect that he was having on her and she could feel herself being pulled to the precipice of orgasm. Keening throatily, she brought her free hand up to curl into his hair. 

“Harder!” she panted, struggling with the effort not to scream as she ground back against him. “Fuck me harder!”

The groan that tore its way from his throat was nearly a growl, and she gasped as in, one swift movement, Ron grabbed both of her wrists and brought her hands up to rest on the mirror so she was bent forward, palms splayed on the cold glass to steady her. Pulling her leg off of the vanity, he forced both of her legs wider apart as soon as both of her feet were placed solidly on the floor. Gripping her hips, he then began thrusting his hips forward and back at an exacting pace, his cock hammering in and out of her. 

Before long, the only sounds that could be heard in the small bathroom were a chorus of gasps and moans, punctuated by the carnal staccato of skin slapping against skin. Time gradually lost meaning as the outside world slipped away and they became lost in one another. Suddenly and without warning, the well of her pleasure spilled over and she gasped, calling out for Ron repeatedly as her climax overtook her, pulsing through her body in waves and causing all the muscles below her waist to tremble and spasm. 

And then his arms were around her waist, gingerly pulling her up so he could hold her against his chest and torso, ensuring that she didn't collapse to the floor. As ecstasy slowly ebbed from her body, she was left with a warm, glowy feeling and the pace of his lovemaking slowed. Turning her head, she was delighted when his lips found hers in a tender, lingering kiss. 

The gentleness of their embrace made the sudden rapping at the bathroom door all the more startling. 

“Ron, darling? Are you in there?” his mum queried from the other side. 

Grinning rakishly, Ron brought a finger up to his lips in a silencing motion and grabbed his wand from where he'd placed it on the counter. Muttering a soft counterspell, the Silencing Charm was suddenly broken. 

“Yes, mum!” he called out, while scandalously rocking his hips against Hermione's, pulling an unexpected intake of breath from her. “I'll be out in a few minutes,” he continued with a casualness that shocked her. 

“Do you know where Hermione is?” Molly asked, a hint of suspicion in her voice. “We're getting ready to light the garden.”

“No, mum!” he shot back, wiggling his eyebrows at Hermione's reflection as he continued to slide in and out of her. “I'm a bit preoccupied.”

Clearly, Molly wasn't entirely convinced by his response. “Are you sure, Ronald?” she needled.

“Merlin, mum! I've already told you, I don't know where she is. She's a grown woman and I'm not her keeper!” Hermione had to suppress a smile at the obvious irony of his last statement. However, all humour was lost as he reached down between her thighs and began rubbing her clit once more, gradually picking up the pace with which he made love to her. His actions were so outrageous that she had to bite into her lip to keep from moaning. 

With forced concentration he continued, stunning her with how well he was selling the charade as he vexedly complained, “Can't a man go to the loo in some bloody peace?”

And just like that, his lie seemed to pay off.

“Of course, dear,” Molly replied, her voice sounding slightly embarrassed. “I'll check the garage, perhaps she’s followed your brothers and Neville out to look at the updates to that ruddy car of your father's.”

“Maybe,” Ron called and silkily promised, “I'll see if I can't track her down when I've finished in here.

“Thank you, dear.” It was mere moments before they could hear her footfalls disappearing down the hallway in the direction of the kitchen. 

With a quick swish of his wand, the Silencing Charm was put back in place and Ron grinned at Hermione from over her shoulder. 

“You are absolutely terrible!” she chided him breathily, although her hips met his as he continued to pump in and out of her. 

“Terribly in love with you,” he corrected tenderly, kissing her shoulder sweetly and causing her heart to leap in her chest. 

Without warning, Hermione was suddenly leaning forward, causing Ron’s shaft to slip out of her and she turned to face him. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she gave him a searing kiss and slowly she turned them around until he was the one leaning against the vanity. Then, before he could react, she dropped to her knees and wrapped her hand around the base of his prick, quickly sliding his knob into her mouth. Ron groaned and bucked his hips at the unexpected change of pace, forcing more of his length into her wanting mouth.

“Fuck, Hermione,” he groaned, as she bobbed her head greedily up and down his cock, palming his nadgers and gently rolling them around in her hand. He'd already been well on his way to climax when he'd had her bent over the vanity, and the tight, wet heat of her throat spurred a familiar tightening in his bollocks, threatening to undo him.

“You'll make me cum,” he ground out, panting as he tangled his hands into her cinnamon curls. 

The thought of him spilling into her mouth was such an erotic one that Hermione moaned and picked up the pace, the vibrations of the sound sending a delightful shock along his length, through his pelvis and up his spine. Her amber eyes were molten caramel as she looked up at him and nodded, taking him as deep into her throat as possible. 

Seeing her like that, on her knees and pleading with her eyes for him to let go, pushed Ron past the boundaries of his resolve. Holding her head in place, he pistoned his hips back and forth, roughly fucking her heavenly mouth and throat and pushing ever closer to release. She let out a muffled moan and lightly choked, but held firm to his muscular thighs when he attempted to pull out of her mouth, assuring him that she was alright. A few more strokes and Ron was groaning deeply, head tilted back as he was pulled under, his warm, salty cum spilling into her mouth as his orgasm overtook him.

She slowly pulled her head back, gingerly withdrawing his prick from between her pouty lips. Panting, he took a few deep, shaky breaths and looked down to her with a look of heady admiration. His cheeks coloured an even deeper shade of pink as he watched her swallow and then grin up at him like the cat who ate the canary. Reaching down, he helped her to her feet and, wrapping her securely in his arms, he gently stroked her hair and looked into her eyes with a look of pure wonderment. 

“Blimey,” he cursed, as his thumb ran affectionately along her cheek. “You're bloody brilliant at that.”

Suddenly, his lips were crashing down, leading hers in a passionate embrace as he gently rocked her back and forth. When they finally separated, she smiled bashfully up to him and traced his kiss-swollen lips. 

“So are you,” she whispered, unable to help the grin that spread across her cheeks. They stood in each other's arms for a couple of minutes, passing tender kisses back and forth, before Ron cleared his throat and broke the spell. 

“Suppose we should adjust our clothing, get the bathroom back in order and rejoin the festivities before my mum realizes she's been had?” he asked with a mischievous grin. “Besides, you never know who might turn up.”

Hermione couldn't help herself, succumbing to a fit of giggles as she nodded and followed his lead. 

And so it was that a mixture of teamwork and magic made quick work of their disorganized clothing and surroundings, and, in no time at all, Ron and Hermione's fingers were threading together and they shared a brief peck before Ron opened the door to the hallway and party beyond.


	7. Coming Home

As the door swung open, Ron pulled back, just barely avoiding running headlong into a party guest. The familiar figure stood in front of him, fist raised as though she'd been readying to knock on the door, with a surprised look spread across her delicate, doll-like features.

“Oh, Ron. There you are!” Luna spoke in her soft and airy voice, the look of shock that she'd been wearing only moments before was quickly replaced with a glowing smile. 

“Hey, Luna,” he said to her, replying with a slightly embarrassed, but genuine smile of his own. 

“And look, you've found Hermione!” she said with a delighted trill, as she peered around his shoulder. It only took a second or two before she seemed to connect the dots and an impish smile lit up Luna’s face at the realization of what they must have been up to. Leaning in, she glanced either way down the hall before fixing the two with a conspiratorial grin and whispering, “Don't worry, I won't tell a soul. Although, we'd best return to the party.”

“I suppose we'd best,” Ron agreed, smiling as he looked back to Hermione with an affectionate tilt of the lips before the three old friends made their way back towards the kitchen and the garden beyond. 

As they stepped out into the brisk December air, their presence was immediately sensed by a number of partygoers as well as Ron's family, and Hermione gently squeezed his hand in an attempt not just to soothe him, but also herself. 

“Ah! There you are, son!” Arthur chirped as he walked over, cheeks rosy from laughter and drink as he clapped Ron on the shoulder. “I thought your mum was going to send an owl to Kingsley and demand a search party be convened.” His eyes twinkled with the last and there was a chorus of chuckles as Molly made her way through the crowd, swatting his father's arm when finally she reached them. 

“I was going to do no such thing, Arthur! You make me sound like a hysterical ninny,” she sniped, but there was no malice behind her words and the corners of her eyes crinkled with good cheer. She cast a suspicious glance towards Ron and Hermione before turning to their companion with a smile and leaning in to kiss both of Luna's cheeks. “Thank you, Luna, dear. I assume it was you who finally located these two?” 

Ron was seriously considering the benefits of scrapping the whole plan, wrapping Hermione in his arms, and apparating back home when Luna looked his mum straight in the eye and, with a dreamy look, lied right to her face. 

“Not at all, Mrs. Weasley! You should really be thanking Ron. He's the one who came and found Hermione and me in the attic,” she said with a small smile. Both Ron and Hermione swivelled to face her, looking just as shocked as his mum. 

“The attic?” Molly asked, clearly just as confused as they were. “Dear, what were you doing in the attic?”

Luna didn't miss a beat, “Searching for my mittens. You see, I realised that they weren't in the cloakroom when I tried to find them for the garden lighting.”

“But, dear,” Arthur replied, appearing just as confused as his wife. “Why would your mittens be in our attic?”

Luna seemed to finally understand their confusion and, leaning in, she lowered her voice and softly replied, “Nargles. They love attics, and, I suspect it's the nargles that took them.”

Molly and Arthur shared a look of complete perplexion and both Ron and Hermione could have kissed her in that moment, but before anyone could reply, a handsome and swarthy chap was making his way to Luna's side. Procuring a pair of hot pink, fuzzy mittens from inside his coat pocket, Rolf Scamander leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to Luna's cheek. 

“I've got your mittens right here, love,” Rolf said with a loving and patient smile. 

“Oh!” Luna exclaimed with mock surprise. “Silly me! Of course you do. I suppose it wasn't the nargles after all.” 

Leaning in, Luna completed her final act of deception and wrapped Hermione in a genuine hug of affection. 

“Thank you for helping me look all the same!” she spoke cheerfully, before pulling away and wrapping her arm around Rolf's waist. The pair shared a quick kiss before disappearing into the crowd of partygoers and the garden beyond. 

Looking first to her husband and then, confusedly, towards Ron and Hermione, Molly tilted her head and murmured, “What on Earth is a nargle?!”

Unable to help himself, Ron chuckled and replied, “Best not to ask, mum.”

He and Hermione shared one last smile with his befuddled parents before leaving them to it and, following Luna and Rolf’s lead, making their way towards their waiting siblings and friends. 

Harry raised his brows, mouthing something that looked suspiciously like “nifflers”, as they reached the group and Ron wiggled his own in reply, earning an elbow to the ribs when Hermione caught their playful exchange. The sound of silver clinking on crystal quieted the partygoers and Hermione was grateful to avoid any further interrogation as the two chuckled in spite of her glare. While everyone turned in the direction of Molly and Arthur, Ron sidled up behind her, circling his arms about her waist and kissing the top of her head. 

“Sorry, kitten,” he murmured sweetly. 

“Hush,” she chided. But as she relaxed against him and smoothed her hands back and forth over his arms, he knew all was forgiven. 

“Merry Christmas, everyone!” Arthur spoke from the front of the yard, his arm draped affectionately over his wife's shoulder. “Molly and I would like to thank all of you for taking the time out of your busy schedules to join us in tonight's celebratory festivities!”

Cheers broke out around the yard and Arthur waited patiently until the revelry had died down before he continued, “We would also like to thank our children and their partners for showing up early and helping us prepare for tonight's bash.” 

George hooted particularly loudly at this and Molly shot him a silencing glare, but she couldn't quite hide the affectionate curl at the corners of her mouth or the softness in her eyes. Holding his hands up in a placating motion, Ron's older brother quieted down and allowed his father to finish his speech.

“Lastly, I would like to thank Molly, my incredible wife, without whom none of this would be possible,” Arthur's voice was full of love as he looked down at her and, bending down, he scooped her up into his arms and gave her a blistering kiss. The garden was filled with raucous hoots and hollers and Molly giggled girlishly as he set her back down, the years seeming to melt away as she swatted his chest. Seemingly unable to help herself, she leaned back in and placed a quick peck on his lips. 

As the cheers died down, Ron gave a gentle squeeze to Hermione's middle and pressed his lips to her ear.

“Time for me to shine. I've got to go grab the Deluminator to help with the lighting,” he murmured just loud enough for her to hear. Turning her head, Hermione smiled up at him with a nod. If she hadn't known better, she would have sworn that he was up to something by the glint in his eyes. But before she was able to ask what exactly he had stored up his sleeve, Ron leaned in and stole a chaste kiss.

“Be back in a jiff,” he smiled as he pulled back from her lips and then he was off, blending in amongst the throng of other partygoers. 

Hermione looked over to Harry and raised one eyebrow quizzically, but when she was met with a blank stare she shrugged and turned her attention back to Ron's mum & dad. Molly seemed to have recovered from her unplanned snogging session and was now fanning her hands out towards the crowd in a shushing motion, doing her level best to regain control over the rowdy bunch. 

“Alright, everybody,” she said with a laugh. “Now that the sun has set, I really do think it's time that we take a few moments to appreciate all of the hard work our kids put into the garden this afternoon! Does everybody have a glass with their favourite libation?”

A murmur of agreement travelled across the garden as everyone nodded and either raised or tipped their glasses in verification. Molly smiled at this as, together, she and Arthur raised their own flutes of champagne high into the air. 

“Very good! In that case, please join us in a toast to a happy Christmas and very merry new year!” she said, beaming as she gazed across the sea of raised glasses held aloft by all of their loved ones who had come together for the night's celebrations. “Ronald! The lights!”

As Ron flicked open the Deluminator, thousands of tiny orbs of light began to float across the garden and settle into place within the strings that the Weasley children had meticulously strung up. Starting at the front of the garden, an intricate, twinkling lacework of iridescent illumination began to work its way along the foliage, furniture and outer walls. The sight was stunning, but as she turned to watch them complete their unveiling, it was not the lights which stole her breath away. Instead, it was the man and woman who stood waiting under a sparkling archway, with smiles as bright as the lights which surrounded them. 

Hermione's mum and dad stood side-by-side, her father with his arm draped around her mum's waist, and unlike in the nightmares which had plagued her for half a decade, her mum’s arms were held outstretched, beckoning her closer. Without hesitation, Hermione ran. Tearing through the crowd, she left startled glances and mutterings in her wake as joyful tears streamed down her cheeks.

“Mum! Daddy!” Hermione cried as she reached them, voice breaking. She was immediately enveloped within her mother's arms and began sobbing as her father pulled both of them into a comforting embrace. 

“Never, never do that again!” Hermione's mum chided as she frantically stroked her hair, pulling back and looking her over. 

Her father's approach was softer, but the pain in his voice nearly cut her to the quick as he asked, “Darling, why on earth would you ever have thought that Obliviating us was the best solution?”

Shame gripped her like a vice around the chest, and all she could do was shake her head. 

“At the time, I thought it would protect you,” she murmured shamefacedly. 

“Protect us?” her mother asked with a hollow laugh. “It was our job to protect you. You're our daughter. You should have come to us. We would have worked something out.”

Her father sighed as he rubbed her back and nodded along. “That wasn't your decision to make, Hermione. You took away our choice and, in the end, we figured out that our little girl was missing anyways.”

Hermione had the good sense to bow her head in guilt before what he'd said sunk in and her chin shot back up. “But how? How did you figure that out?”

Her mom chuckled then, and the familiar sound wrapped itself around Hermione like a warm blanket, soothing her frayed nerves. 

“You always hated that attic, you silly girl,” she said, stroking Hermione's temple. “You didn't get rid of any of your baby clothes or the photo albums that we had stored up there.”

“And,” her father cut in, “You didn't bother to obliviate Nan and Gramps, or Aunt Susan and Uncle Dex.”

“Darling, you didn't obliviate anyone but us.” The pain in Lydia's voice was raw and even though Hermione knew logically that obliviating her parents was the best decision she could have made at the time, the hurt that was reflecting back at her from mother's eyes somehow still made her feel selfish and small. She had never meant to hurt her parents so badly. 

“I am so sorry,” Hermione sniffled and cast a pleading look back and forth between her parents. “Can you ever forgive me?”

“Of course,” her father said as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “All that matters is that we've found you and that we're all together now.”

“How?” Hermione blurted. “How did you find me? We've been looking for you for years! How did you get here?”

“Ah. Well, we have Mr. Gently to thank for the former. We hired him to find you, as he's a private detective, and he managed to track down Ron and Harry,” her father said cheerfully. 

“We caught the first flight out of Sydney the moment that Ronald called,” her mum added through a teary smile as she glanced lovingly over Hermione's shoulder. “He and Harry picked us up from Heathrow just this afternoon.”

Hermione turned around in the direction that not only her mother, but now also her father, were looking and found Ron standing only a foot or two away. He'd taken off the cap that he'd donned before stepping outside, leaving his copper hair sexily mussed as though he'd just had a particularly good shag, the thought of which had the colour in her cheeks rising. The missing headwear in question seemed to have travelled into his hands, and he was wringing the navy piece of fabric nervously as he shifted his feet back and forth, watching her cautiously with large, blue puppy-dog eyes. As it was, with him standing there hat in hand, he looked completely irresistible. Unable to stop herself, Hermione sidled up to him and, without warning, swatted his arm.

“Ronald Bilius Weasley! You absolute prat!” she seethed and had to struggle not to smile when the corners of his mouth twitched with the effort not to grin.

Holding his hands out in a placating gesture, he looked down to her with a look of absolute adoration and apologetically mumbled, “I wanted to give you a surprise.”

“Hmph!” Hermione huffed, already beginning to thaw as he smiled bashfully at her and slid his hands around her waist, pulling her in closer. 

“You're so brilliant and selfless and kind, always doing things for other people,” he said, reaching up to stroke the pad of his thumb over her cheek. “I think sometimes you forget that we also like to do things for you.”

She pouted up at him, knowing that his words rang true, and it was then that Ron used the best tool he possibly could have in earning her forgiveness: logic. 

“Kitten. If I had told you last week, you would have been absolutely frantic and miserable until their plane landed this afternoon. There was no point in you suffering. This way you got to enjoy the entire holiday season, and your mum and dad,” he said with a smile and nod in their direction. “Got here just in time. It's a Christmas miracle.”

At that, a burst of surprised laughter came bubbling out of her throat. Standing on tiptoe, Hermione wrapped her arms about Ron's neck and pulled him in for a long, slow kiss, earning a cheek-searing round of applause from the captive audience that she'd somehow managed to forget up until that moment in time. 

“You are absolutely impossible,” she murmured breathlessly against his lips. And then Ron was picking her up and spinning her around as their laughter weaved its way through the crowd, across the garden, and up into the shimmering night sky.


	8. All I Want for Christmas is You

It was some time later, and well into the wee hours of the morning, when Ron and Hermione had finally bid goodnight to her mum, her dad and Ron's family, and, emotionally exhausted, made their way home. 

As they strolled along the winding and snow-covered pathway that led from their garden into the tiny cottage that they shared, Hermione rested her head against Ron’s shoulder, squeezing his hand and letting out a contented sigh. Returning the gesture with a squeeze of his own, Ron let go of her hand and wrapped his arm about her waist as they neared the front door. 

“You know what?” she asked quietly and stopped, turning to face him and wrapping her arms around his shoulders as he did so. 

“What's that?” he returned with a gentle smile. 

“I think that I'd like to keep you, Ronald Weasley,” her voice lowered seductively as she said his name and she was surprised by the sudden change in his demeanour. As Ron’s eyes searched hers with a sense of both adoring wonder and melancholic regret, Hermione realized that he hadn't looked at her in the same way since he'd managed to track both her and Harry down in the Forest of Dean. 

“What is it, darling?” she murmured, stricken. 

“I'm sorry that it's taken me so long,” Ron said softly, tracing her bottom lip with his thumb. “But, it's not because I couldn't pluck up the courage.”

Hermione looked up at him in confusion. 

“Ronald, what are you talking about? What's taken you so long?” she asked, searching his summer-blue eyes as the snow drifted down around them in lazy swirls, painting the garden around them in a fresh, glittering white. The dazzling smile which spread across his handsome features at her question, seeming to erase his unease, had her stomach tumbling as though it had been filled with dancing pixies. 

Moving in close, Ron wrapped his arms about her waist, pinning their bodies together and stealing her breath away as he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers in an achingly tender kiss. All thoughts of worry and confusion melted away and time seemed to slow as they stood wrapped in each other's arms, blissfully unaware of the cold or anything other than one another.

Finally, when Ron slowly pulled away, Hermione's lashes delicately fluttered open in the absence of his embrace. Letting go of her waist, he enveloped her hands in his and brought them up to his mouth, holding her gaze as his lips danced sweetly across her knuckles, lingering over one spot just a few moments longer than the others.

“I couldn't do this,” he spoke softly as he slowly sank to one knee. “Until I knew that our entire family would be present.”

The breath caught in her throat and her eyes went wide, as he reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a tiny, spherical, velvet box. 

Ron took a shaky breath as he stared unflinchingly into her eyes and he cleared his throat, his voice strong and clear when he finally began, “I have loved you for as long as I can remember. You have given me limitless laughter, bravery and love. You've witnessed me at my worst, when I was completely undeserving, and yet you loved me still. You showed me the importance of admitting your mistakes, setting aside your pride and doing any and everything for the people whom you hold most dear. Because of you, even at my darkest hour, I had the will to go on. I could not have become the man that I am today without you in my life. 

I don't have much money, but my life is so much richer for having had you in it. I know that I will never be able to give you all of the things that you deserve, but if you'll have me, I promise to give to you all that I am. I will love and cherish you every day for the rest of our lives, and if there is a life after this one, I will continue to do so in the next. 

Hermione Jean Granger, will you make me the happiest man in the world and be my wife?”

Opening the lid, he revealed the most beautiful ring that Hermione had ever seen: a mixture of delicate sapphires, diamonds and platinum filigree came together in a stunning floral design, all of which sparkled and danced in the soft light that spilt out from the windows of their cottage. Looking back into Ron's eyes, more beautiful than all the jewels in the world, Hermione dropped to her knees and threw her arms around his neck, trapping his mouth beneath hers in a searing embrace. 

The force of her momentum caused him to lose balance and they both toppled backwards into the powdery snow, laughing between heated kisses as tears of joy speckled both of their cheeks. Ron rolled over then and pressed her into the snow. 

Looming over Hermione, his right arm came to rest beside her head and he held her chin in place with his free hand, kissing her a few times more before he pulled back and smiled beautifully down at her. His face was the picture of love as he searched her face, lightly running his fingers through the chestnut ringlets which haloed her head. 

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes! Yes! Yes! A thousand times, yes!” she cooed, giggling with pure jubilation. Pulling him back down to her, they Disapparated with a quiet pop.

___

Hours later, as the sun just began threatening to crest the horizon, Ron and Hermione lay facing each other, skin-to-skin. Their arms and legs were curled together and breath tickled each of their faces as their lips languidly danced across one another. His fingers lightly brushed up and down along Hermione's arm and the corners of Ron's mouth lifted as he broke the gentle silence that surrounded them. 

“We should probably go to sleep, kitten. They'll be expecting us for brunch.”

“I don't want to,” she protested weakly, but the fluttering of her lashes seemed to tell a different story. “Just a few moments more?”

“A few moments more?” he said with a smile. “Darling, we have the rest of our lives for a few moments more. Besides, the sooner you go to sleep, the sooner you can open your gifts.”

“But I don't need any more gifts,” she murmured, and curling her fingers into the hair at the nape of Ron's neck, Hermione opened her eyes and stared adoringly into his eyes. “Thanks to you, I’ve already received the most precious gifts in the world.”


End file.
